Under the guise of control
by pandanare
Summary: Another lemony one shot (for now) between our star-crossed lovers, set in the infamous three years. This one is much darker but I really wanted to explore a more sinister side of Vegeta and and how Bulma reacts to it. Maybe a little too in character for a certain someone... Starts sour gets dark.. Enjoy!


**Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters or affiliates. That would be the great Akira Toriyama. I do own a few various things though. A king size bed (I highly recommend to everyone) and some really great readers and commenters! Of course I don't own y'all ...yet... But shout out to my awesome reviewers Happyoverwatchfangirl83, Warshade, Musicofthespheres, Turkygravy. and my chica HannaBellLecter. Sorry if I'm missing anyone!**

 **Big thanks and shoutout to HannaBellLecter too for making sure it was read-worthy! Be sure to check out her stuff if you haven't already!**

* * *

"Open your eyes, woman. How can I know when you need to breathe if you don't look at me?" he seethed.

Blurry as it was, her eyesight was her only ally. Any chance she had of talking was now buried behind the cock shoved pubic deep in her mouth. She had other ways of communicating. A loose smile tried to finesse its way around the currently circular shape of her lips as she began humming softly.

Goaded by her melodic thrum, his dominant hand, cradling the curvature of her skull, began to increase its tempo. He closed his eyes and let his head fall backwards to the squelching of her lascivious ministration. As the taste of pre-cum just started to glaze over her greedy tongue, he used his other hand to yank her backwards forcefully by her ropy strands .

A zealous inhalation hung in the air before gravity took over her naked, exhausted body. A thread of saliva tinseled between her mouth and his member briefly before dispersing when she hit the floor with her backside. She made the slightest 'oomph' upon impact and quickly turned her attention to him to see if he was privy to it.

He eyed her carefully as she rolled onto her side to gain leeway from the unforgiving tile. Pushing down onto the floor beside her with her hands, she sat up. She pulled her knees under her thighs neatly and clasped her hands behind her back, waiting for a directive. Subconsciously, she tucked her lower lip under her anterior incisors and breeched his unrelenting gaze with doe-eyed wantonness. A tinge of pink spread across her cheeks as she looked up to him submissively.

He knelt down on one knee almost beside her. In what she assumed was an attempt to slow down her heaving chest, he ran one ungloved, apathetic finger from her navel to her xiphoid process. He stopped and curved his finger slightly, mimicking a shepherd's hook, before excavating a small speckle of skin. She attempted in vain to suffocate a resounding yelp.

The fiendish grin he had gained seconds earlier fell and his eyes immediately locked on hers. Then she cast her eyes down, knowingly. She had displeased him.

The back of his hand contacted her cheek in all but the blink of an eye. Another round of heaving gasps escaped her lungs as she vacillated whether or not she dared remove herself from the floor. The streak of mire from her own fervent wetness was like a trail of bread crumbs to her lithe body. His eyes followed the gelatinous score until his predatory gaze found its prize.

"On your feet, NOW!"

She rose up with fervor. Positioning her back against his chest. He ran the open palm of his right hand across her shoulders, sweeping her hair out of the way, before resting it on her bicep. He spun her around with a quick jerk and gripped her face with his other hand. Her lips puckered and her mascara stained eyes slighty creased from the pressure of her swelling cheeks in his grasp. The look on his face was hard to define. Almost that of casual indifference.

She forced down a lump in her throat. While never breaking eye contact, he brought the other hand in front of her face. The way he waved his fingers back and forth, she wasn't sure if he was going to produce a playing card or demonstrate the popping sound of nitrile to epidermis. It mesmerized her, his hand-and then it disappeared.

With her face still firm in his palm, her breathing hitched as she felt a rhythmic tip-toe pattern trailing down the soft skin of her belly. She closed her eyes as he continued down painstakingly slow. She felt the skin of her breast tingle and pucker around her nipples as he reached the bundle of pulsating nerves. Then he stopped just above it. Her stomach wrenched momentarily when he made no further progress.

One corner of his mouth turned up slowly into a cruel smile as he outlined the juncture of her lower lips instead. She let out a vehement whine, unconcerned with the consequence. He didn't reprimand her. He released the open hand still attacking her face and grabbed one hand from behind her back. He took her hand in his and carefully inspected each digit, checking under her nails. He gently twirled her around to bring her back to his broad chest and rested his hand on top of hers. He laid index finger and middle finger over her matching ones and every so slowing glided their fingers into her wet pussy.

The warm folds enveloped their fingers until their knuckles all but disappeared. He held them there for a second and then slowly pulled out. He rotated their fingers ever so slightly and slid back in to her channel. A little whimper was all she let out. He gripped the back of her neck with his other hand and applied moderate pressure.

In and out. In and out. Her face began to scrunch up slightly as she squeezed her eyes shut. She began to lose her sense of instruction and her fingers started to pace faster of their own accord, instead of following his queues. Her whimpers becoming elongated sobs.

He let her take over until his fingers found what he was looking for. A rough patch of raw nerves tucked away discreetly. He ripped their fingers out of her and forced the dripping extremities into her mouth. She sucked them clean with vigor but let out a muffled assortment of what sounded like words. The look on her face halted the swift hand that was about to connect with it. His eyebrows furrowed with conviction.

"Do you wish to speak now?" he said with no discernible tone. She gave a curt nod.

"W...Why aren't you taking advantage of me?" she tried to manage with despondence. But it came out sounding more like a child whose favorite toy was being withheld.

He met her gaze and let out an amused chuckle.

He placed a hand to her shoulder and forced her down onto her knees. He then leaned her slightly forward so she was on all fours. One finger ran down from her ear and caressed her jaw gently. He leaned in close and blew warm breath into her hair.

His voice ripe with wickedness, " Is that what you want? You want me to take _advantage_ of you? How can I take something you're so readily willing to give away?"

Her pout remained, but with less satisfaction.

He smirked and plunged two fingers deep inside of her as if just remembering the gritty taboo patch he eagerly sought moments earlier. She let out a delicious moan as his fingers began to work her.

"I'm not here to take advantage of you Bulma. I'm only here to make you a better squirter than you already are."

* * *

As her eyes shot open, she instinctively curled up into a ball, pulling her blanket over her head. She hated, absolutely hated wet dreams. Especially _vivid_ wet dreams involving an unstable sociopath bred to spill blood and mindfuck enemies into the mouth of madness. There was only one thing to do to sate the unwelcome longing she felt from waking up alone. Though it somehow seemed inaccurate that she was Bulma Briefs and this was the best she could get..

..Her hand must have agreed with her because somewhere along the way, it seemingly lost it's purpose. Her expectations got to high somehow and the lithe curvature of her knuckles just didn't hold the same value they used to. Almost as if she was holding herself to a standard that didn't fit anymore. A standard that now had diminishing returns and endlessly misplaced assumptions.

Careful not use the same fingers to wipe the sleep out of her eyes, she slowly came to. She stood her nightgown clad body up, less than gracefully, and ran her fingers through her unruly mane. She looked down at the small wet spot on her sheet as if she owed herself some sort of explanation. Her dream she couldn't help, but what about her inspiration to finger fuck? What was she thinking about then?

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind with everything else she deemed tomorrow-worthy. She turned and walked towards her door but stopped when she got to the frame. It must have been something she read..or heard..or something. Either way, it resonated with her and with nothing left to lose, she took its offer. "Make your bed, change your life". Was that it? Or was it "Make your bed, change the world"? She laughed solidly at her situation and decided then and there that if making her bed could simplify _anything_ in her life, she would be tucking corners and bouncing quarters until the great here after.

Slowly, she sauntered through the halls between her bedroom and the kitchen. She extended her arm out to the side letting the sleeve of her robe slip down towards her elbow. Her fingertips gently grazed the wallpaper and a few miscellaneous pictures. Closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, she let her other senses take over as she continued forward.

The almost gravely texture of the wallpaper felt cool under her fingertips. It was purposeful and finite. The glass nested in the picture frame was sleek and glossy. It even had a faint smell to it. The smell of obstinate dust that refused to be shooed away by a cloth. The lemony taste of cleaner hung stalely in the air. Her face soured a little when it made its way down her nasal cavity to the back of her tongue. She continued on.

With her palm flat against the wall, she reached out and felt where the hallway gave way and she was granted a wide berth into the kitchen. She lifted her foot to step forward but momentarily froze. She let her foot fall back in line with her other and rested her back against the wall instead. She tried to think of all the health benefits that supposedly came with _letting it all go._

The challenge that came with completely clearing your mind was nothing short of requisitioning a spirt bomb from a desolate wasteland of mire and muck. Meditation may have been touted as the most natural form of stress relief but it sure as hell wasn't a cure-all. How could it be? And how the hell was someone supposed to meditate in her situation? Impending androids in three years time, another version of herself taking glory for something as earth-shattering as a time machine, the gut-wrenching heartache of knowing that same counterpart's fate and still, somehow being jealous. The fact that future Bulma somehow, even for a short time, tamed the feral beauty that was residing in one of her guest rooms, and what was she supposed to do with that sweet doormat of an ex-lover?

When did life get so complicated? But when was the benefit ever worth this much compared to the risk? A small smile played across her lips. With her the bone in her back as straight as a ruler against the wall, she took in one last deep breath and opened her eyes as she exhaled.

...

...

And there it was. Or there _he_ was rather. She knew. Somehow, for whatever reason, she knew he was there. Had known for a while, but still let her body feel uninhibited sentiment and went through the motions of someone lost deep in thought. Even only a few feet in front of her, he was hard to make out in the dark without the moonlight. But the incriminating mane that teased her fingers so painstakingly and so often was proof enough. A mane so enigmatic, she may even waste a wish on it. A single tug of his tresses might just be worth traversing the world over.

He must've bore witness to her introspection as she interpreted the inquisition plastered on his face as demanding an explanation for her preceding simper. But she had a facade to maintain. This was her home, her business and she needed not explain herself to anyone; especially not a psychotic, self-important asshole who contributes nothing and demands everything. Puffing up her chest in confrontation, she did a little more introspecting. Why did she offer her home to him?

But the roughly sewn veneer she slinked back into busted at the seems the moment he invaded her space and wrapped his fingers around her shoulder. Whatever tension that had been encroaching on them anytime they were in the same room or even just within viewing distance of each other, had come to a head. A burning head. But only one of them was getting burned.

And she embraced it with defiance. Let him try to burn her. She would stoke the fire herself and destroy without remorse anyone who tried to come between her and the intoxicating alchemy that was Vegeta. And all from a single hand gripping her shoulder.

Until it wasn't.

His other hand slowly trailed a finger up her neck and she willingly tilted her head back in submission. His mouth closed in on her palpating skin and he slowly trailed his teeth up to the corner of her mouth. The coolness from the air drying the line of saliva on her neck was a nice contrast to the damp heat just under her panties. As his mouth made forceful contact with hers, the contrast dispersed and any stubborn pride that remained detached itself autonomously.

* * *

Like the distasteful reality of waking up from a pleasant dream, it was over all too soon. He pulled away from her still fully clothed body and gave her a nauseatingly haughty glare, while his grip was still in full swing.

When he spoke, she was cast back into a harsh reality that just simply wasn't fair. This wasn't the dream remembered, or what was she knew to be left of the continuously fleeting memories.. This wasn't mutually pleasing or even sexy. But she needed an answer. Never had she felt so primal and urgent, so disgusted and shameless. She needed more and she needed to know why..

"Why are't you taking advantage of me?" she gasped out, leaving an inexplicable feeling of de ja vu lingering.

"So that's what you want? You want me to take _advantage_ of you?" he let her arm go and let the cool air take residence where his hand evacuated.

"A uninterrupted place to train, all the food I can stomach, a private room I get to imagine all the ways I"ll destroy earth once I finish that fool Karakott and", he made a hand gesture tracing her silhouette. "apparently an indiscriminate trollop to impart my vastly superior DNA upon whenever I so choose, though we haven't explored that yet have we.. Sweetheart, I have taken advantage of you."

"Fuck you, Vegeta."

Ah, yes.

She truly was a sight to see when the alabaster she wore so well became eclipsed by the better fitting frenzy of well earned abhorrence. But somehow, it still wasn't enough.

"Why? Is that what you're thinking about?" He grinned with a narcissistic mania. He slowly unknotted the sash of her robe. "Is that what you were thinking about earlier when you were watching your lewd human entertainment?"

She met his brazen accusations with an ambivalent glare, but what little control she had gained back was slipping with each untangle of the knot. The pressure of his fingertips running across the surface of her silk slip caused her eyelids to flutter and her breath to hitch. It really was a shame something so ..desirable, came with such impediments. It was more shameful that she was letting him mock her, play with her emotions and yet she would be on her knees in an instant if he snapped his fingers.

"Tell me woman" He pinned her to the wall with a hand on each hip as he brought his lips to her ear.

"If it's me you're thinking about, why do my sensitive ears pick up only the shrieking of two ... _women_ ", he stated with a grin so self-serving, any iota of confidence she may have clung to was now reduced to a seething, smoldering...bottom line.

"Unless that's just what you're into?"

He was so fucking proud of himself.

The only thing keeping her from responding with enough fervor to blow up East City, was the small piece of realization Vegeta accidentally bestowed upon her. Before he let his perfect teeth and threatening canines expose themselves in a raucous chortle, he let his guard down. His poker face disappaared momentarily and he wore his emotions perfectly, if only for a split second. It was enough time for Bulma's brain to read, register and interpret the message. 'I own you.'

The memory of her dream suddenly hit her, full force. All the pieces that evaded her before were now putting themselves together in a neat, readable format. The only difference, she wasn't enjoying it and she wasn't on her knees... yet. But, she wasn't property, she wasn't a pet, she wasn't to be owned. Or so she thought.

She wasn't even sure how she ended back up against the wall or how his hand ended up under her panties, but she wasn't going to squander this.

"Did you do this for me?", he crooned maliciously, as he kneaded her noticeably hairless adipose. A betraying moan escaped her lips as he traced circles all around her clit and between her lips. Oh how her body betrayed her. But it wasn't just her body. It was her body, her mind, her _foolish human emotions._ And he knew it. He knew how wet she was. He could probably smell it from his room. He was a glorified truffle pig and she was just waiting to be rooted out.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...

A familiar pattern started to form as he backed away again and took his gifted fingers with him.

"There truly is no end to your shame is there?" He let out a, whole-hearted laugh. "You humans really are too easy", he looked casually to his hand, inspecting his nails with apathy, as if the conversation someone lost his interest. As if she was that insignificant.

Finally. Somewhere at the intersection of insult and rebuke, he had succeeded in rousing the blazing symphony of loathing and disdain he waited less than patiently for. He knew it was coming. He knew before her hand even raised. Before it made contact with his perfectly chiseled jaw. He might of even known before he watched her saunter down the hall. Bulma could swear she heard pins dropping on the other side of the compound as charcoal bored into azure when her hand returned to her side. There was really no way of knowing how this would proceed, but she wan't scared. She wasn't afraid for her life. She was just pissed.

Surprisingly, her head remained attached to her body and only a low growl was released..."Did you think you were any different?" He slammed her to the wall with one hand around her neck. Maybe then she should've been scared, but she was just too damn angry.

"That you could domesticate me? That I would give in to the sopping wet cunt I could take anytime I desired?" He trailed each finger down her stomach in succession. Rhythmically timing each indent on her skin..finger..by..finger. "The only difference between you and every other wretch I've fucked is that.." he pulled her in close and gave her a grin that was nothing short of pure sin..

"I would let you get pregnant."

Why this was music to her ears, she would never know. Her breathing became more shallowed as she slowly closed her eyes. Her mouth slightly agape. It was obviously some sort of threat but she couldn't help but take it as a promise. The warnings going off in her head were stifled by her desire to hear more. A disgusting, sick desire.

"You see Bulma, it wouldn't be worth it to kill you for...obvious reasons. But I have little self control when things" he trailed off momentarily.. "get to a certain point."

She needed to find some ground, quickly, but it felt as everything below her was breaking apart and falling into itself. What point was he talking about? Was he trying to scare her into backing down. Didn't he provoke _her_ and initiate this foray _?_ And what did he mean by let her? Didn't it just happen if it happened? There really was no _letting_ it happen. She tried to read between the lines of his cryptic nature.

..Wait..did he _kill_ every person he ever had sex with...

She metaphorically shook her to try to forget what she had just heard. Her feet were still on the ground so maybe she could come away _mostly_ unscathed. She just had to find her voice.

"There are ways to prevent that here you know? Injections, pills, procedures. You might not believe it, but we're not the 'backwater rock _'_ you think we are! In fact, good luck with that because I happen to be-"

"You won't do anything I tell you not to do.." Any semblance of humor or sarcasm in his voice was replaced by a cold reality. A reality that dictated when the conversation was over. He gave her shoulder once last squeeze before pushing her away and heading towards the other side of the compound.

He left her with her head spinning and his words resonating, much to her chagrin.

But that was that. She wouldn't do anything he told her not to do. And that was a problem. He was a problem..

Only, there was no twelve step program for it.

He was an elixir. A dangerous concoction who's seemingly only purpose was to weaken her knees and burn her loins. But it wasn't just that. He was just single-purposed. He could rise to the challenge of intercepting her all but bifurcated tongue, he could outsmart her in almost every instance, and god damn could he establish dominance to a degree that was simply unreachable to her. He could dominate Bulma Briefs.

* * *

 **Authors note: Whoa guys, that was intense! I don't really think their time together in the three year gap was _that_ crazy, but still wanted to explore it.**

 **Alright..as fun as that was, I gotta get back to This won't end well. Chapter three should be out pretty soon. I've just gone back to work after being off for two weeks, so I haven't had as much time to work on it as I would like. **

**As always my lovelies, please R and R. Even if you didn't like it, just let me know what I could've done differently. Of course "likes" are always welcome too ;)**


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